Miss Independent
by Carie Valentine
Summary: Basch blows off steam in an unlikely way.


Author's Note: I decided to beta this on my own since it would have been too much of a hassle to look for one for such a short project. If there are any mistakes, and I am sure there are, that is why. This is my attempt at a funny story in response to SharperImage's challenge: I won't bore you with the details of it. But basically, someone in their underwear singing and getting caught. Anyway, it's not all that funny, but I did my best for a short fic written in basically a day. Anyway, enjoy and make sure you all check out A-Alexiel's fic for the same challenge. It's pretty epic.

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Miss Independent

Carefully pressed against the grey stone wall of the private army barracks, a tall, blond man of twenty-seven peered around the corner. His pale blue eyes scanned the yard for those who pursued him endlessly.

The south lawn of the castle was quite and empty, except for the palace guards who were on patrol. Basch was confident he had given his followers the slip in the mess hall. Yet, he was taught that letting one's guard down led to failure so he still slinked his way around the corner and quietly slipped into his private quarters.

He closed the door slowly so as to not make any sound that would attract any unwanted attention. Finally in the safety of his room he tiredly shrugged off his sweaty armor and leaving it in a pile by the door. Thankful to finally be free of the other members of the Dalmascan army.

It was not as if the Captain hated being around him comrades. Quite the opposite, in fact he loved being with army buddies. They had been to hell and back together. It was the new comers he could not stand.

The fresh batch of new recruits had arrived months ago and seemed to idolize Basch. Rather than listen during instruction, they would watch his every move with fascination. Constantly he would have to snap them out of their reveries and then have to redo the entire lesson. Then when the boys would finally get to applying their new learned skills, his ears were filled with,

"Captain Basch, how is this?"

"Captain Basch, watch me."

And, "Captain Basch, you are so cool, show us how to do it again."

He felt like a mother whose children were competing for her attention. But even after training it was not over. Oh no, stories of Basch's prowess in battle were infamous around Dalmasca and it seems as though these boys were raise on over exaggerated tales of his heroics. From noon until night all he heard from this group was:

"Captain Basch, is it true-"

"Captain Basch, did you really-"

"Captain Basch, I heard that you-"

The relentless questions pushed Basch to the edge of his sanity. He was even beginning to hate his own name. He was sure if it continued on like this he would decapitate someone in training. The more he thought of the torment the more angry he became.

Quickly, Basch strode to his closet and pulled out a straw dummy, painted to look like an Archadian soldier. This was the time of day Basch loved most: the part of the day where he could be alone and blow off some steam. The gods knew if anyone needed to blow off steam it was him.

Next, he moved to the corner of the room where his music player sat and pulled out the latest pressing of some new singer who had just recently won some music contest in Bujerba. Basch wound the crank on the side of the player to get the turntable to spin. Carefully, he moved the needle onto the pressing and sound instantly filled the room.

Basch retrieved his sword from the pile of armor, turned sharply toward the dummy and unleashed hell. Pictures of the faces of his idiot recruits appeared in his minds eye on the dummy and his blade hit it again and again sending bits of straw everywhere.

"Miss never let a man help her off her throne/ So, by keeping her heart protected/ She'd never ever feel rejected/ Little miss apprehensive/ Said ooh, she fell in love," Basch sang unconsciously though grit teeth as he slashed with his sword. He no longer cared if anyone heard him, if they disturbed him now, their head would roll.

As the song moved onto the next verse, the tired and frustrated captain stopped when he finally noticed he was singing and looked at the straw carnage that covered the floor.

--

"Ashelia, where are you?" cried a woman in a plain grey dress that matched almost perfectly with her hair. The woman clutched the bottom of her dress so as not to trip as she ran around the south yard looking for her charge.

A blonde ten-year-old princess watched from behind the target the men used for archery practice and giggled as her frantic nanny search.

"She'll never find me in a million years," the girl said to herself with a large cheshire grin across her face. Ashe dropped quickly onto the ground, as her nanny neared, caring not if her new pink dress was soiled. She hated dresses and all that they stood for.

Behind her she could hear music coming from the direction of the captain's private barracks. Basch, she knew, would stow her away for a while. They shared in a mutual distaste for her strict and mean nanny. Yet, it was uncommon to hear any loud noise coming from his room. She had always known the captain to be a man who disliked any unnecessary loud noises.

No longer worrying about evading her nanny, Ashe stood up and walked to the door, curious as to what was going on inside. With a closed fist, the princess knocked politely on the door and waited. When he did not answer, Ashe pounded on the door with all her might.

"Captain Basch, I know you are in there?" she yelled.

No answer.

"As Princess of Dalmasca I order you to open this door."

Still no answer.

"Okay, I am coming in," she said and pushed open the heavy oak door.

Ashe's eyes grew wide at the sight before her. Captain Basch, strongest knight of all Ivalice, was stripped down to his chocobo print undershorts and singing into the butt of his sword: his eyes closed, hips swaying and head leaned back as he screeched out the words to a song she knew, but why?

"What is the feelin' takin' over?/ Thinkin' no one could open the door," the mighty knight screamed horribly off-key into the sword as he raised his muscled arm into the air.

Yes, it was the pressing her uncle Halim had send her from Bujerba for her birthday, claiming it was all the "rage" for girls around her age. Why in all of Ivalice did Basch fon Ronsenburg have her musical pressing?

"Is that my pressing?" she demanded loudly so as to be heard over the music.

"Surprise, it's–" His eye snapped open and he caught sight of the younger girl watching his every move.

"Your Highness," he gasped in surprise, dropping the sword to the floor, narrowly missing his foot. His heart was beating rapidly at having been caught. He stood there for a moment starring at her not knowing what to say; the music now fighting the awkward vibe in the room for dominance.

"Ashelia, there you are. What are you—? What in sweet Ivalice is going on in here?" Ashe's nanny screamed covering the young princess' eyes with her wrinkled hand. Basch felt whatever color was left in his body drain completely.

"I— She— I mean I… was just," Basch sputtered out pointing in different directions with both hands.

"Have you no shame, Captain?" scolded the woman her eyes wandering over his exposed body in disgust. Basch looked down at himself and quickly moved his hands over the front of his underpants.

"Come, Ashelia," the nanny said sternly ushering the child from the room.

Basch watched in embarrassment as the nanny escorted Ashe off towards the castle. This, he knew, would not end well for him as Vossler and a few of his other friends passed by with large impish grins on their faces.


End file.
